


Don't Think About It So Much

by lilred_wulfe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-22
Updated: 2009-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 13:00:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilred_wulfe/pseuds/lilred_wulfe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a short drabble I put together for enchanted_jae's challenge of the month, back when I was still writing under my previous pseudo bound_amalthea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Think About It So Much

The frigid air whips around me in a blast. It brushes my bangs off my forehead and stings my eyes. I clutch the iron railing beneath my fingers relentlessly. The water below is choppy and ruthless. It pushes against itself in a wonderful display of discord. I try to focus on the white of my knuckles, but it's useless. They've told me to focus on the here and now. Here and now. What a load of shite that was.

The past few days have been the worst of it. I try my best to walk forward, but it's so hard. It's so damn hard to wade through the pain that pushes against my chest. Scars decorate my body like decrepit wallpaper. It's slathered upon my too-far stretched skin. My lips are chapped, my tongue dry, my breath cold against my frost bitten fingers, and I can still taste the tangy copper blood at the back of my throat. Though of course, they've all told me it's all in my head.

I pull out the blue index cards they gave me. They're not special in any apparent way, for the exception of the words that they display.

"Cheer, hope, joy, kindness, happiness." I choke them out one by one. The words have been ingrained from repetition. I almost don't even need the cards any longer. I flip through the mindless daily routine cards to the last card and finger it softly before I close my eyes. The one word that I cannot fathom, not anymore. The letters loop and spiral in a lovely script. Love.

I caress it and let the tips of my numb finger glide over its indentation. My finger trembles and shakes. One of the cards falls to the ground and before I can grab at it, it falls down below into the dark water. I search through the remaining cards and think back. Cheer. Joy. Kindness. Happiness. Which one had I lost? I can't seem to recall. I try to remember, but all I can see is the card flipping over and over until it falls into the water. What's another memory lost to me? Not much but a little card. They'll never replace what I've truly lost. The people at the hospital tell me it'll be okay. Hermione tells me everything will be fine once I get better. I think they're just telling themselves that to make it easier on their consciences. Don't think about it so much. They've told me this many times as well, yet all I can ever remember is his voice.

Don't think about it so much.

His voice just beyond the edges of my vision. His hands circle my waist and pull me around slowly. His lips soft against mine, his breath hot and taunting.

"You're thinking about it too much." I look at him with confused eyes.

"The shirt looks marvelous on you, no matter what my Father said last time. You should know better than to listen to him."

"I thought you said my shirt looks better on the floor."

"That was for a different reason and you know that."

"Oh? And what reason would that be?" I tug lightly on the buckle of his belt.

"Never you mind that. We have to hurry to the party or we'll be late. Even if it is just the Weasleys." I try once more to tug on his belt, but he spins me around and suddenly I'm staring at my knuckles again.

They say that I'll get better. The flashes will lessen, his memory will disappear. They say a lot of things, but what aren't they saying? They didn't try hard enough. Was that it? They tried so hard to bring me back that they hadn't given the effort to save him? He's dead and I'll never be better because of that. No matter if my short-term memory comes back, I've still lost the most important thing to me. I glance down at the tattoo that decorates my left wrist. The little dragon swirls magically, tingling my nerves as it twitches and sways. Draco.

After a small amount of deliberation, I take the rest of the blue cards and chuck them into the air. They flutter in the air and fall like graceful butterflies. I watch the choppy water swallow them before I turn away, oblivious as to where I'm going. They say I'll get my memory back, but really what's another memory to the one that's already lost to me forever?


End file.
